


Tricky

by legitimate_salvage (ifinkufreaky)



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Face Slapping, Hate Sex, Power Dynamics, Verbal Humiliation, at least that's the deal, skipping that friends step, well-negotiated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 22:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifinkufreaky/pseuds/legitimate_salvage
Summary: Monica Stuart is nothing if not persistent. She doesn't even care if she gets anything else out of Amos anymore, as long as she gets that D...Set sometime after 3x07, before the plot hits the fan on the Roci





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Feels good to be writing Amos again!! It's been interesting to integrate some of the new things canon has revealed about his mentality about sex, but I think I've figured out how to make it work with my own kinks. Hope you all enjoy! This is definitely a mixture of Wes' Amos and the book version of the character, who is a bit more overtly sexual and crude.

He’s glaring at her again. Monica has come to learn that while Amos is often quiet, it’s not because he’s polite. It seems to her that he has, in fact, almost no self-consciousness, no shame, and no care at all if he is making someone uncomfortable. For the weeks that they’ve been aboard the _Rocinante_ , he has had no problem at all letting his eyes settle on Monica, long and hard and too direct, warning her she’s not welcome in his space on the tiny gunship. She half expects him to growl like a dog when she walks past; he seems that uncivilized.

She had really stepped in it with him. Misread him terribly when she started her interviews, assumed he was just dumb muscle, with a simple mind and simple desires. Her offer to loosen his lips with a quick roll in the sack had been too heavy-handed. An unfortunate impulse meant to snare him while his emotions were high.

She never made any progress cracking him, since that day. Worse, he watches her now like she’s dangerous, a snake he might have to throttle and throw away from his friends at any moment. At first it had been unsettling, but lately Monica has been telling herself she’s used to the constant weight of his eyes on her.

And maybe even enjoying it.

The first time she realizes she actually wants him, they’re down in his machine shop, watching him retrofit some big cluster of gears and wires that she doesn’t understand and doesn’t care to. They’re just capturing some raw footage of Amos at work, which might go in the final documentary as background for some overlying narration. He’s ignoring them, pointedly, and attacking corroded old bolts with his wrench hard enough to break a sweat. He’s peeled his jumpsuit down below his hipbones, and the undershirt with the sleeves ripped high clings to the planes of his back. Idly, Monica imagines using her tongue to follow the path of a bead of moisture down the cut between his deltoid and tricep. Almost makes an embarrassing noise out loud when she catches her own thought.

Since he shot her first offer of sex down so abruptly, she’s hesitant to try again. Spends the next week trying to hide the attraction, only drinking in the glorious angles of his body when she’s sure he’s not looking at her. Which isn’t very often, with the way he keeps trying to stare her into retreat any time they’re in the same room.

She wonders what it is about Amos Burton that’s drawing her in like this. Is it just because he won’t talk to her? Holden and Alex are also very attractive men. She knows they’re holding things back too, but they are both willing to chat for hours, both on-camera and off. And they’re both single enough that they’d probably be easier prey. Meanwhile Amos put up a wall that first day that she tried to pry into his mysterious past, and would barely ever engage with her now.

He won’t talk but she puts herself into his space more and more as her lust only grows. Tonight everyone’s gone back to their bunks but Amos, so Monica lingers in the galley too, nursing the last few sips of tea that went tepid a half hour ago. Challenging him, or challenging herself? He won’t talk, but every time she glances over at him, he’s looking right at her, wearing his usual glare.

It’s driving her crazy, that he can look at her all day, when she’s the one that wants to stare. Does he think he can make her so uncomfortable that she’ll just leave every room he walks into? It hasn’t worked yet. Why persist?

She steals another glance at him. His eyes are intense, his jaw visibly tight even under that beard… she almost blushes remembering how soft it had been when he teased it across her cheek. Then it hits her: there’s not actually anger in his eyes. The ‘stay back’ hostility is still there, but… there might be something else driving it.

She looks down at the red bulb in her hands, the logo of the MCRN etched into its side reminding her that she’s shipping with outlaws here. These men are unpredictable, and if her research is right, Amos Burton might be the most dangerous one of all. Still, now that she’s gotten to know them, they seem like truly decent human beings, despite their secrets. More embarrassment is probably the only thing she’ll suffer, if the risk she’s about to take goes wrong.

She looks back up, and this time refuses to avert her eyes from the heat of his gaze. They study each other for a long moment, and she does not shrink. “See something you like?” she finally blurts out. She means her smile to be inviting, but can tell it’s leaking a little too much anxiety.

Amos just barks a quick laugh, raises his bulb and sucks out the last of his coffee. “You on that again?” His words could be harsh, but his face has softened. She’s amused him, and that’s a hopeful start.

“Offer might still be on the table.” Monica flicks one expertly-arched brow, a gesture she’s learned can be more useful than a shrug.

He scoffs, but he doesn’t pull back. “I’m not telling you anything that I haven’t already said.”

She smiles, then turns to face him more squarely. “What if we just forget about that part.” She’s already decided the angle on her story, and she doesn’t actually need any more revelations from the _Roci’s_ mechanic. “No business. Just pleasure.” She’s observed him long enough now to know that Amos appreciates communication that’s simple and to the point.

His lips part, and she can see the gears turning in his head. “You know it wouldn’t be anything but what they call a hate fuck.”

That throws her, but a flash of heat shocks her between the legs just the same. Apparently she’s into that idea. She collects herself with a long breath before she answers. “I’m not under any kind of illusions about your feelings for me. Just wondering if you wanna make me feel anything.” She lets her body roll languidly as she shifts closer to him.

“I could think of a few things.” He says it the same way he delivers his threats, flat and casual. It’s hard to tell if he’s flirting, or talking about torture.  

He stands up, and she’s sure that he’s about to invite her back to his bunk to find out.

“See you around, Tricky,” is all he says. A smirk creases his cheek, and for one dazzling instant she gets to see his eyes brimming with something other than hostility. Then he’s making his way down the ladder without looking at her again.

Well shit. He’s going to make her take a little more time to decide if she’s in over her head on this idea.

* * *

Monica puts on her bravest face when Amos slides the door of his bunk open the next evening, squashing her apprehension with a beguiling curve to her lips. She realizes breaking in and surprising him in his own bed might have been a very risky choice. She had decided against stripping down and waiting for him naked, just in case her ass was about to get thrown out.

Amos’ face jumps for only a moment, his stride into the room barely breaking. He closes the door behind him and stares down at her with squared shoulders, letting his mass fill the small space between the wall and the bed. He grunts just one word at her. “Persistent.”

Monica tilts her head. “It’s what’s made my career so successful.”

He crosses his arms, a move that makes his biceps bulge so deliciously that Monica’s throat goes dry. “How did you get in?”

He doesn’t look as offended as she feared, though she can’t trust that; she’s already learned that Amos doesn’t show emotions on his face like other people. The calmness of the question might be absolutely deceiving. So she sits up as she answers him, unconsciously assuming a slightly more defensible posture. “I’m actually pretty good at hacking locks. Another useful perk for a nosy reporter.”

“Maybe too nosy for her own good.” But all Amos does is lean back against the wall next to the door. So he’s not going to get aggressive. Nothing about his posture, however, suggests that he’s ready to ravish her the way she’d dreamed when she cooked up this plan.

“You gonna throw me out now?” she asks, confidence slipping.

He blinks, thick eyelashes interrupting that heavy stare, and gives her no reaction at all.

Well, it was worth a shot. She stands and aims for the door.

“Ground rules,” Amos says abruptly. Monica freezes, hand above the door panel. “If we’re gonna do this, I have to know what your limits are.”

She drops her hand, turns to face the big man more squarely. She’s only reeling a little from the abrupt shift in her expectations, hides it as always by turning on her most charming smile. “What, you get that freaky?” she teases.

“Maybe.” She can see the desire bleeding into Amos’ eyes now, his face relaxing and flushing slightly, arms uncrossing. “But it’s always better to clear that shit up on the front end. I’ll tell you mine first, if you want.” He waits for her to nod. “First, protection is not optional. Second, don’t expect anything romantic or mushy from me.” He lifts his arm and rests his flexed elbow against the wall, leaning in toward her. “We can get rough, if you like that,” he smirks a little, “but don’t slap me in the face. That’ll end shit real fucking fast. And absolutely nothing goes in my ass.”

Monica blinks once, absorbing that barrage of honesty. “Alright,” she says, taking the invitation in his posture and shifting herself closer to him. “I’m good with all that. Um, I’m usually pretty game for everything… but my nipples get kind of sensitive pretty fast, so go easy on me there…” it was more awkward to just say this stuff right out than he had made it look. “I do like it when a guy tells me what to do in bed. And rough…” she thinks of the violence that’s always simmering under Amos’ surface, “that could be good. But don’t leave any marks I can’t cover. And, I hate being tied up.”

Amos nods along as he listens; she can see him taking this very seriously, filing it all away. “Fair enough,” he says when she’s done. “And just so we’re clear: I mean it about no strings. This isn’t going to make us friends.”

Monica tosses her head valiantly. “I didn’t expect it would.” Amos is just an itch she absolutely has to scratch. “Anyway, I’m gonna need you to sign a nondisclosure agreement after this.”

Amos smirks at her. “Can’t have the whole system knowin’ that Monica Stuart fucks her interviewees.”

She echoes his expression without a trace of shame. “It would ruin the magic,” she shrugs.

He almost laughs, seems to respect her confidence, the fact that he can’t seem to embarrass her. “I might have to tell the Cap if he asks me directly, but yeah, I’ll sign it. No problem. But keep the secret, that’s all I’m signing for, right? You don’t expect anything outta me for this?”

Monica shakes her head slightly. She’s given up on trying to deal for any more information. “Just a solid orgasm…” she smiles and lifts her jaw within kissing range, “…or two.”

He still doesn’t move toward her, looking like he has one more thing stuck on his mind. “You really don't care that I don't like you,” he finally says.

“Kind makes it hotter,” Monica replies with a wry look. She’s not even sure she buys it anymore, but it’s a sexy thing to pretend. She steps so close it’s awkward _not_ to be touching, then looks up at him through her lashes. “If you don't like me, then why are we even doing this?”

His face doesn’t soften one bit. “That’s never been a requirement for me to fuck someone.”

The way he looks down his nose at her… fuck. Monica had never particularly explored this sort of humiliation/hate fuck kink before, but she’s finding herself just dying to try it.

Something melts in her expression, and a slow, smug smile tugs at Amos’ mouth, like he can see exactly what she’s thinking. “Okay Tricky, I'm willin' to give this a try. Come on, let’s see if you can turn me on.”

How many times is he going to throw her off tonight? It already feels like her panties are on fire, and he’s not even sure if he’s going to get it up for her? She sets her jaw and accepts the challenge.

The first thing Monica tries is a slow drag of fingers down the planes of his abdomen. She’s dying to grope and explore his well-muscled chest, but that will come later, when she’s already got his interest. She ghosts her lips past his mouth, and when he doesn’t try to catch her in a kiss she keeps traveling up, brushing her full lips along the top of his beard in an echo of how he had teased her last week.

“I’ve seen you looking at me,” she breathes in his ear. “Now’s your chance to touch.” Finally she presses the line of her body against his, while her fingers trail along his hipbone, seeking the bottom of his undershirt beneath the rolled-down edge of his jumpsuit.

She lets her breath escape in a little moan when Amos’ hands slide across the small of her back, diving almost immediately to cup her ass in two giant handfuls. He kneads her just about as brutishly as she’d been longing for, the fingers of his right hand already diving into the sensitive flesh between her legs.

“Yesss,” she breathes against his neck, “I knew you wanted me. Don’t hold back, Amos. I wanna feel all that passion I see simmering under your surface. Tonight you can use me however you want.”

A rumble in his chest is the only warning she gets, then she finds her back slammed against the wall, his body covering her own. His hard eyes loom inches from her face, and one calloused hand slides over her collarbone, up the column of her neck before settling across her jaw in something halfway between a caress and a threat. “Is that so. This what you want?” He uses that grip on her face to twist her head up and to the side, dives in to scrape his teeth along the side of her neck.

Yes, exactly. Monica sighs in response, driving her hips against his and leaning in to the assault. His other hand has found her breast, which he squeezes just as eagerly as he had her posterior. She takes the initiative, zipping down her own jumpsuit to the navel, offering him easy passage inside her clothes.


	2. Chapter 2

Amos pulls up Monica's undershirt without ceremony, scrunching it high on her chest so he can pop her tits out of the cups of her bra. He pulls his head back just far enough to get a good look, then his hands cover the dark brown of her nipples. His attitude might be callous but he remembers what she said, teasing them only lightly. He braces one large hand behind her back and bends down to suck just until she starts to squirm.

He’s really got her going, now. Monica grinds her pelvis against his, unlocking one mag boot so she can wrap a leg high around his hip. She can clearly feel a hardening length against her inner thigh, and smiles a little knowing that she’s won. She starts tugging his shirt up, ready to enjoy her spoils.

Amos comes up from her chest, breathing as hard as she is. There’s no intimacy in his eyes, but the extreme focus is almost just as good as he holds her still for a moment and takes in the sight of her body. She preens, ready to hear him tell her how gorgeous she looks in his arms like this. The men Monica Stuart takes to bed are usually adoring. Worshipful, even. It kind of comes with having a face everyone knew from the newsfeeds.

Amos doesn’t give a shit who she is.

“Strip,” he says, as if she was just any common trash, leaning in and pressing his lips against the shell of her ear. “I want you on the bunk.” He steps back just far enough to give her room to cross the tiny space between the wall and the bed in this cabin.

Monica doesn’t let her poise crack. She stays tight in his personal space, letting her nose brush across his cheek as she pushes off from the wall. With a soft smile on her parted lips, she offers herself for a kiss again, and again Amos ignores it, slapping her ass to hurry her on toward his bunk. He softens the sting just a little with a smirking smile.

She decides a little more teasing is in order. Taking off mag boots is never graceful, but after that’s accomplished she climbs up onto the crash couch mattress with her back to him, planting her knees wide and looking over her shoulder with veiled eyes. “Strip,” she echoes. “You want that as a show?”

She locks her gaze onto his hungry eyes as she zips her jumpsuit down further, bouncing her hips playfully before peeling down one shoulder, then the other, like a twentieth-century burlesque dancer.

Amos’ appreciative expression almost looks genuine. Maybe he’s finally starting to get comfortable with her. “Hurry up,” he says, but there’s a joke in his tone now. She leaves her jumpsuit hanging low off her hips, just like he’s wearing his, and peels her bra and shirt over her head together in the smoothest motion she can manage. She tosses them with just a little flair toward the corner of the room.

When she looks back at Amos he’s got his shirt off too. She was expecting something good, but the creamy expanse of his hairless and heavily muscled torso overwhelms her for a moment. They work out a lot in space, it seems. Her jaw drops just a little as she stares at the chiseled definition of his hip bones, leading the eye down to the tent in his jumpsuit that seems to be the only thing holding the garment up. He puts his hand on it and makes a little involuntary noise. He’s ready for more.

“You gonna finish?” he asks, and she realizes she has frozen completely in her little strip show. Monica laughs a little and shimmies her jumpsuit down, revealing her final weapon.

You have to pack light for space travel, but she’d made sure to bring one tiny piece of lingerie. Just in case she would need it. The crimson thong featured five pairs of unnecessary straps, crisscrossing her gluts and framing her ass. She puts both feet down on the floor in front of the bunk so she can bend and drop the rest of her clothes, and tease Amos with the little shimmy of upthrust hips that she may have already practiced on a few occasions in the mirror.

She’s gratified to hear a lustful little growl and the sound of mag boots crossing the decking. Amos doesn’t wait for her to climb back onto the bunk, pressing hands and hips against her well-presented ass before she can even straighten her body back up. “You like?” Monica asks, and wiggles herself against him, thrilling at the feel of his erection nestling between the backs of her bare thighs.

Amos makes another appreciative little noise. “I’d fuck you right now, just like this,” he says. “But I figure I’d better find out how you like to come, first.”

While the thought of being pounded against his bunk sounds just heavenly right now, Monica does not want to miss out on her chance to touch and explore his body, too. She needs to at least be facing him. She slides up onto the bed and turns toward him, knees bent and falling out to the sides so he can get a good look at the front of her ornate panties. The straps coming around the sides converge and weave together to form a red diamond that just barely covers her sex, the pattern reminiscent of geometric labia. There’s even a little bead for the clitoris.

Monica loves that bead. It enhances the experience for her every time their hips grind together. “I like to come with a finger on my clit” —she demonstrates with a little circle around the embellishment on her panties—“and a fat cock inside me.” She’s already felt Amos through his jumpsuit so she knows she can get away with using that adjective.

He smiles and drops the rest of his clothes. “I can help you with that.” His cock is majestic, pink and thick and redder at the head, extending straight up out of a well-groomed crop of dark blonde hair. “But first, I wanna put that pretty mouth of yours to good use.” He wiggles out of his mag boots and climbs up on the bunk beside her, his erection bouncing a little as he kneels in the gel of the crash couch. “Hands and knees,” he orders, grasping himself at the base and pointing that swollen tip toward her face.

It’s not a tone of voice people use with Monica very often. Somehow the authority helps her relax, feeling free to cut her mind loose and just enjoy. “Yes, sir,” she giggles, refusing to show him full subservience even as she arches her back in front of him and parts her full lips to accept his cock.

She only brushes around his head at first, exhaling to entice him with just her hot breath. Amos responds by grasping the back of her head and guiding her gently but undeniably deeper. “You like to fucking tease, don’t you?”

She seals her lips around the middle of his shaft and moans her “mhmm.”

“Shit,” Amos exclaims, hand spasming in her hair. Everyone always underestimates vibration. She swipes him with her tongue, bobbing her head slowly up and down. “And you like to suck dick, huh?” he continues.

“Mhmm,” she hums again, enjoying the way that trips him up. She’s also enjoying the little jolt between her legs every time he says something foul to her, in that unplaceable little accent he has. She rolls her eyes up to him, tries to pull back so she can speak. Amos’ hand on the back of her head resists the movement so she just teases him more, trying to talk with his dick still stuck in her mouth. “Hnph faphing mirnpy.”

He shivers and looks down with a fire in his eyes. “What?”

She pulls back again and this time he releases her. Monica blinks up at him as she wets her lips. “I said, keep talking dirty. I love the shit that comes out of your mouth.”

Amos grins, so wide that Monica can see the dimples hidden under his beard. “You got it, Tricky.” He presents his cock again. “As long as this shit keeps going in your mouth.”

She accepts him back in eagerly, thrilling at the way his hands slide approvingly over her cheekbones and back around her head. One big palm runs down over her shoulder, where her muscles flex to hold herself up.

“You look so fucking good like this. Are you enjoying yourself?” She hums again, knowing that vibration is why he keeps asking her questions. That hand keeps sliding, down her back until he reaches the swell of her ass. He has to lean forward to reach it, forcing his cock a little further down Monica’s throat. His fingers tangle in the straps of her thong. “You like being on your knees in front of a guy you barely know.”

When he plays with those straps the fabric slides against her aching pussy in all the right ways, and the noise she makes is more pleasured moan than response to his query.

He’s pressing himself rhythmically against her jaw now. “Such a good girl you are, letting me fuck your face,” Amos intones, voice starting to sound a little ragged, breaths coming harder. He pulls the panties tighter, causing a sharp pain. Monica yelps.

Amos backs off right away, lets go of her thong and shifts his weight back over his heels. He doesn’t say anything but he looks down at her with concern in his eyes.

Monica smiles. She knew he was a good person, despite all his bluster. She slides her lips back over his cock eagerly, resuming the rhythm he had abandoned, letting him know she was not offended. Soon, his breaths are coming deep and fast again, muttering curses on every outbreath. “Fucking hell. Just like that.”

When she feels his pelvic muscles tensing, Monica starts to change her mind. If she gets him off now, she’ll just be leaving herself disappointed. She still wants this man to fuck her brains out.

Amos seems to notice she’s slowing down. His palm slides over her cheek. “Don't worry, Princess,” he says, voice gone thick and deep, “You’ll still get fucked if you make me cum now. I'll be ready for you again real fast. Side effect of long runs on a ship with no pussy.”

She looks up at him, popping his cock out of her mouth. “Princess? I thought my name was Tricky,” she sasses.

“Your new name’ll be Ass-so-red-she-can’t-sit-down if you don't get back to sucking.” He even swats her cheek in chastisement, though not hard enough to leave a mark. The soft sting along her jaw makes things deep in her body clench.

The spanking is actually a tempting offer, but Monica decides to be obedient. She wraps a hand around the base of his shaft and squeezes, dragging it up and down in time to the movement of her lips sucking around his head. Amos groans his appreciation, and it only takes five more strokes to make him blow. His whole body goes rigid and he sucks in his breath through his teeth, letting it out with a long, low moan that sounds like something deep inside is finally relaxing. Monica feels oddly proud of herself as she tastes his salty load.

She holds his cock in her mouth until it stops twitching, then sucks softly as she draws him out to keep him clean. She makes sure he’s looking at her as she licks a little of his mess off the corner of her lip and then swallows down his load with a smile.

Amos flips his eyebrows like he knows exactly what she’s doing and he’s not going to let it work, but she sees the satisfaction pulling at the corner of his lip. Guys always love that.

He surprises her by pressing forward suddenly, pushing her back down onto the bunk and crawling over her body. He presses his nose against her ear, in a gesture reminiscent of the one he’d used to humiliate her last week. “You think you’re so fucking hot, don’t you,” he growls in her ear.

Monica just giggles, a velvet sound low in her throat. “Oh babe, I know I am. And I think I just proved that you think so, too.”

Amos replies only with a “hmf,” scooping up one of her breasts and giving the nipple a precise little flick. They had landed on the bunk with one of his knees between hers, and Monica presses herself against his thigh eagerly as her hands spread over his chest, propped up above her.

She had been with plenty of built guys before, but Amos’ muscles speak of hard work and not a trace of vanity. His broad pecs are dense and intimidating in just the right ways. He gives her a little while to grope on him and ride his thigh, all with a faint smirk on his face, before he starts sliding down her body.

Monica feels a fresh thrill when she realizes he’s going to eat her out. Even though he supposedly hates her. His fingers reach the bright red straps crossing her hips and he strips the expensive lingerie off her like he didn’t even see it.

He spreads her pussy assertively, but with care. His thick fingers don’t chafe or bump. She catches a gleam in his eye just before he leans down and licks across her, and she realizes there’s no obligation or fair-trade social conventions operant here. He’s is going down on her because that’s just something he likes to do.

She has not expected him to be so good with his tongue. Amos builds up her orgasm so fast she barely gets a chance to enjoy having his crew cut pitched between her thighs. He sucks her clit until she has to cry out his name, the ragged edge in her voice giving her away.

He releases her, but she feels his breath hot on her skin when he speaks. “You close already, Tricky?” he marvels. “I thought you’d last a little longer than that.” He works her over with his tongue a little more, not even slowing himself down, challenging her to take it and not come just yet.

Monica squeezes his head between her thighs, but Amos is quick to pry her legs back, overpowering her easily.

“After you come, I’m going to fuck you so hard,” Amos promises between lusty passes with his tongue pressed flat, “so hard you’re gonna regret coming in here.” His fingers are sliding against her entrance and when she cocks her hips up against them he presses firmly inside, as blunt as his words.

She wonders briefly how much of this trash talking is coming because she asked him, and how much is just shit he actually wants to say to her. All she knows is that every foul word out of his mouth makes her writhe and moan harder, taking her arousal to spiraling levels that are not going to let her hold out much longer.

He sucks on her clit again, a few pulls in time with the fingers curling against that extension of her erogenous zone on the inside, and Monica is gone, sheer pleasure knocking her back and making her feel like the ship must be spinning around the axis of Amos’ mouth.

He winds his movements down slowly, letting her enjoy every last wave of pleasure. Monica is still a panting mess when he finally withdraws, looming over her with one hand keeping her bent knee from falling as he reaches up to get something from the storage bin above their heads. She can barely keep her eyes open, humming out her bliss, but she recognizes the sound of the crinkly package when he retracts his arm. Condom, as promised. Amos is going to make good on his threat to finish her off with a deep pounding.

He’s got it on in no time, and before Monica can muster herself to react Amos is covering her body with his, erection already prodding for entrance. “Time to pay the piper,” he intones, but balances the menacing words by waiting for her hips to turn up in welcome before he plunges inside.

They both groan as he first sinks in, and pause to savor that truly unique connection. In Monica’s opinion, there was just no substitute for good dick. There were plenty of amazing products out there, video sims and toys so real-feeling that the marketing swore you wouldn’t be able to feel the difference, but Monica always could. Because there’s something special about another person’s body inside of yours. It can feel you, you know it’s taking pleasure in penetrating you just as much as you are taking pleasure in its shape and movements. No toy could quite substitute for that.

 Amos arches his back above her, withdrawing himself halfway before slamming back inside, harder this time. He doesn’t seem satisfied with the small noise he draws from her, starts ramping up the intensity of his thrusts until she makes little bleating noises as he breathes raggedly next to her ear.

She knows it’s not love but she loves the connection. Monica drags her lips across Amos’ cheek, the closest to a kiss he’ll allow, and tries to catch his eye contact.

He gives it, once he realizes that’s what she wants. Amos’ face hovers a few inches above hers, bouncing slightly with the rhythm with which he’s nailing her. His eyes are filled with that same fathomless glare he was giving her in the galley last night. Now she knows for sure, that this is what he was thinking about. “You like it?” Amos asks, voice tight with effort, wrapped up with that masculine pride guys get when they know they’re performing well.

Monica plays her part, purring and letting her lashes flutter theatrically. “Fuck yeah,” she says, letting her vocal chords drag out the words. “I love it.”

“Good,” Amos says, pumping harder. “The way I see it,” he continues, pausing dramatically as he pulls up her hips and shifts to a deeper angle, “I may not want you on my ship, but if you’re gonna be sharing my air all the way to the Ring, you might as well be my fuckdoll.” Her cunt explodes on his final words, even as the creeping humiliation makes her cheeks start to burn and her eyes squeeze shut. “You want me to use you, I’ll use you, hell yeah. Would you like that? My cum dump. Whenever I need it.”

He fucks harder and Monica starts keening in pleasure, his nasty words the perfect spice to bring her barreling toward orgasm again.

Amos slows his rhythm just long enough to grab her hand, setting her fingers against her clit. Giving her permission to come just the way she said she likes, as he wraps his hands under her thighs and resumes the hard pistoning he seems to prefer.

Amos’ cock is overwhelming the nerve endings he just about fried out with her first orgasm. When she adds her favorite counter-rhythm with her own delicate fingertips, Monica loses any ability to speak, or even think. Amos is grunting like a beast as he holds her hips up in the air, and her legs spasm and convulse around him as she spirals toward another round of bliss.

Amos is still fucking her mercilessly after she peaks, and it’s only when she’s come down from the sheer ecstasy enough to open her eyes again that that his pace starts to stutter. She gets to watch his face crunch up in pleasure that looks almost unbearable as he finally lets it go too, burying himself deep inside her as he releases, seemingly harder than the first time.

He collapses over her, letting their hips squish together into the gel of the crash couch, his forehead coming to rest on her shoulder. Monica finds this tiny sliver of intimacy captivating, the stubble at Amos’ temple sliding softly against her jaw as he catches his breath and enjoys his aftershocks, still buried in her to the hilt.

Just as Monica thinks she wants to say something cute, Amos is suddenly rolling off her, one hand at the base of his cock to keep from losing the condom. He lays on his back beside her, shoulders pressed together tight in the narrow bed as he peels the rubber off himself and flings it toward the recycler.

She wants to lift her head, see if he made the blind shot, but finds that she can’t quite make her muscles work. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is the bliss coursing through her veins, the satisfaction of an itch quite thoroughly scratched. Amos was a good lay. She’s already rolling through the footage of her memories from tonight, compiling a highlight reel she’s sure her mind will be revisiting over and over again.

Amos’ gruff voice interrupts her reverie. “You ok?” he asks. Monica slowly becomes aware that they’ve been laying motionless, in silence, for a fairly long time. “Hey… I didn't go too far, did I?”

He lifts up on his elbow, peering down at her tranquil face. Monica squints up at him. “You're sweet.” Her flat, vaguely mocking tone tells him everything he needs to know.

His face relaxes, and Amos drops back to the bed, shouldering her just a little to make him some more room as he settles back in. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he grunts. “You’re not sleeping here.”


End file.
